


and i’m not prepared

by slowshow



Category: Jennifer's Body (2009)
Genre: Angst, F/F, Fix It Fic, Fluff, Humor, Songfic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-11
Updated: 2019-11-11
Packaged: 2021-01-28 22:39:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21399787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slowshow/pseuds/slowshow
Summary: Jennifer is six, there’s sand caked on her knees, and she feels a sharp pain in her palm.Needy licks her wounds like it’s no big deal, then and forever.
Relationships: Jennifer Check & Anita "Needy" Lesnicki, Jennifer Check/Anita "Needy" Lesnicki
Comments: 26
Kudos: 127





	1. sorry is never there when you need it

**Author's Note:**

> title: Good to You, Marianas Trench

Jennifer is seven and she’s standing in a large doorway, watching her mother pour a drink.

No, she’s not. 

Jennifer is seventeen, standing in a dark hallway at a house party with Needy, looking for a bathroom.

She spilled whiskey on her favorite top not five minutes ago, a frown marring her face at the sight of the stain, and Needy, being Needy, offered to wash it out. 

Well, no. 

She’s seventeen, but this time she’s in Needy’s room, leaning over the mess of homework and highlighters on the duvet so that she can slip fingers through Needy’s hair, draw her closer.

Jennifer is not drunk, blind, nor stupid. She can take advantage of a moment.

Now: Needy is looking at her with those last-ditch eyes, slightly parted lips, a question.

Then: Needy is willingly leaning in, sighing through her nose into their kiss, the hard plastic of a purple highlighter pressing into her bare thigh.

Finally: Jennifer is happy.

...

Jennifer is seventeen, and she’s dead. 

Demonetized, half-alive, half-empty: a hungry, black hole of a teenage girl.

Needy is tugging on her own sleeveless shirt, pulling it up and over her head, urging her best friend to wipe the blood off her face and hands with the garment.

Jennifer does so, her body sated, eyes glazed-over.

She draws a heart with her fingertip on Needy’s stomach when she’s done, groaning, says, ”Stop,” into the skin where Needy’s jaw and throat meet.

“What?” She hears Needy, shaky yet sure.

“I’m gonna hurt you.”

“No, Jen. You’re not gonna hurt me. It’s okay...”

...

Jennifer is seventeen, in the back seat of Needy’s car, counting the cars that pass.

She’s waiting for her to finish pumping gas, waiting for this newfound hunger to shut up, for her own shriveled up heart to stop aching.

It’s been sucking her dry, this thing.

That’s what Needy keeps saying anyway, characteristically sympathetic, as she unloads the tent, blankets and hand warmers from the trunk. 

”We’re fucking slumming it now, huh?” Jennifer says at this, shifting her stance because her legs are a little sore from the long drive.

“Cars too small Jen.”

“We can share the backseat.”

“Not...really.”

Jennifer rolls her eyes. “Why not?”

“You kick in your sleep. And we’re gonna hate how we feel in the morning if we do,” Needy pushes, closing the trunk shut and zipping up her jumper.

Jennifer could honest-to-god eat anything right now. She doesn’t think she’ll be able to sleep anyway.

“I already hate how I feel, come on Needy. Please.”

Her best friend in the entire world unlocks the car promptly, turning on her heel.

...

Jennifer is freshly eighteen, lying on a shitty bed in a shitty motel littered with tan wallpaper and a palm-tree-themed bathroom.

Needy is laying out the paper map on the bed for the billionth time, and she looks kind of crazy, disheveled and twitchy.

She’s doing this, for her, her best friend.

And it’s not like Jennifer doesn’t know that. It’s not like she doesn’t go a day without thinking about the way Needy left a promising life behind to run a marathon of massacres with her, her best friend.

Later, when they’re sharing a bed caked with fluffy blankets, Jennifer thinks something _actively_. Over and over. 

She’s half asleep, got half an arm up Needy’s shirt because Needy is always warm.

But Jennifer learned that too long ago; Needy’s an inexhaustible source of warmth, malleable like gold, she just needs a little bite sometimes. 

“Hey,” Jennifer murmurs, bites down hard on the inside of her cheek, “love you Needs.”

Needy swoons a little at that, feeling the humming vibration of Jennifer’s voice against her sternum. It sounds like thank you. 

...

Jennifer is six, she feels a sharp pain in her palm.

Needy licks her wounds, then and forever. 


	2. no words are coming now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now, there’s blood everywhere,—not hers—staining all her clothes, but that’s not the part that’s fucking with her.
> 
> What is—in that Jennifer totally doesn’t get it— is that when Needy finds her like that, the first thing she does is reach out and touch her.

Jennifer never liked the look of blood.

Her mom dressed her minor wounds when she was little and Jennifer would squeeze her eyes shut. She didn’t like the idea of skin, her own especially, being so sensitive it could just _break,_ like that.

Jennifer remembers, at six, trapping a thorn in her heel while she glided barefoot on a trampoline. 

All the blood she’d ever seen was her own.

Now, there’s blood everywhere,—not hers—staining all her clothes, but that’s not the part that’s fucking with her.

What is—in that Jennifer totally doesn’t get it— is that when Needy finds her like that, the first thing she does is reach out and touch her.

...

Needy has a graphic tee Eldorado. 

Theres like a dozen of them in her bottom drawer, and it’s stupid and cute, to Jennifer, because they didn’t used to be there, because Needy probably thought hiding them there would keep Jennifer from wearing them.

The one she’s just chosen for the night is worn-soft, a faded blue, with _Mazzy Star_ lettered on the front, and she throws it over her head, pulls the thin fabric down; it’s huge, big enough so that when it falls over her frame it grazes the tops of her thighs.

“Jen.” She hears Needy’s voice behind her. Stern. Still unbelievably warm.

“Hmm?”

Needy hesitates, like she always does, so—

“I’m not gonna get your goodwill tee dirty, Needy. No blood,” Jennifer tuts, raises her hands in mock surrender, “see?”

“It’s not that.”

There’s another slight hesitation, then Needy speaks at once, briskly, as if she’d just got it all together finally, in her head.

“I don’t know how long we can keep this up without getting caught. The news is following everything. I don’t even know how close they are to figuring out the semantics of it, but the FBI is probably involved by now, it’s been two months, Jen, and I know we left a paper trail, last week, you know, when you wanted to shop for shoes right after killing that guy outside of Tacoma?”

Jennifer doesn’t miss all the _we_’s.

Totally doesn’t miss how Needy’s thinking of everything, like she always does, for Jennifer’s sake. And it’s not like she wants this, at all, fucking hello, but she especially doesn’t want Needy to break. Because then what will they do without her?

“Jen,” Needy pushes, tone deferential in that particular way that always makes Jennifer want to roll her eyes and physically draw closer to her, at the same time.

“What?” 

Jennifer’s stepping out of her jeans now because they’re _supposed_ to be getting ready for bed; tomorrow is Saturday and perfect for driving out to Olympia to feed.

The thought is enough to make her think of how she must look right now: fucking hollowed out. sunken expression, bruises under her eyes.

Needy, however, looks like something out of a clean and clear ad, even if there’s traces of grief in her facade, and apparently it’s possible for her voice to get that much more gentle, because—

“I wasn’t saying it’s your fault.”

Jennifer sits on the edge of the bed, runs a hand through her silk hair frustratingly. “Okay. Whose fault is it?”

“Not yours.”

Needy sheds her coat, joins Jennifer on the bed, on her left. She’s impossibly warm, as if she’d hadn’t just been outside in the rain, and Jennifer sighs at that.

“Needy...” she breathes, after she can think again, “I’m the one fucking doing it.”

It’s hard to voice it, but it’s what Jennifer is thinking, and if she deflects now, it’ll only come up later.

“If those posers hadn’t first done what they did, you wouldn’t have to hurt anyone,” Needy counters, voice growing gradually softer, “You... _dying_ is the only other option, and it’s not really one. You have to stop looking at it wrong, Jen. It’s eating you.”

Jennifer shakes her head at that, focuses on the warmth her best friend radiates, the way her words satiate, however stupid-obvious-yet absolutely-necessary they may be.

“No shit.”

...

They’re on the road a lot.

Because, as Needy constantly reminds her, they need to _not_ kill anyone within a 300 mile radius of devils kettle; everything else is fair game. That’s why they drive three hours out of town every three days, until they’re far out enough, and if they’re lucky they’ll encounter yet another dingy strip club, or a rest stop, shrouded in darkness. It’s never particularly difficult.

They’re somewhere on highway i-5 heading back home, when Needy sneezes from behind the wheel.

It wakes Jennifer, who‘s been sleeping in the back seat for the past hour. She just fed, so her skin is pristine, hair perfectly full; she looks otherworldly, and her body thrums with a newborn energy in the quiet of the back seat: which is such a complete waste, because Needy can’t even see her right now.

...

The following week, when the shadows have taken over her face again, Jennifer and Needy skip school.

Not even to go hunt a dude, just to stay in bed.

So it’s stupid good, and probably wrong that they’re in bed together right now, Needy’s bare leg thrown over Jennifer’s waist, breathing lightly against her chest.

She fell asleep minutes into _How The Grinch Stole Christmas_, which Jennifer totally doesn’t blame her for, thinks she could sleep too, if this hunger would fuck off nicely.

At least she can keep devouring the jumbo pack of red licorice Needy got her at a gas station last week. Even if they’re annoyingly tasteless, she can still feel the sugar rush, is contemplating this when she feels Needy aimlessly searching for her hand beneath the covers.

When their fingers find each other, they intertwine naturally. Jennifer sighs a little in response, feels warm all over because it’s a good distraction, the best she’s had all day.

That is, until she feels the warm pressure of Needy’s mouth against the skin of her throat, and the twizzler she’s got dangling from her own mouth free falls into the sheets.

She instinctually threads the fingers of her free hand through Needy’s hair at the base of her skull, flat out groans when Needy starts sucking at her pulse point. 

And she’s not complaining, like at all, but why would Needy want her now, when her skin looks like this, and her eyes have next to no allure. Why not three days ago, when she could ruin lives and climb walls and shit, when she felt like god herself? 

She feels Needy push up onto her own hands, shifting her weight so that she’s flush on top of Jennifer, now.

“_Needy._“

“I know,” the blonde exhales softly, a breath away from her best friend's face, “I know you’re empty.”

“Fucking poetic. I’m starving, thanks a lot.” 

Needy rolls her eyes. “Do you need a safe word?” 

And that’s stupid, because like, Needy would know if she were about to rip her to pieces. 

“Why? Wanna pin me down?” 

The blonde twists her lips; one of her legs parts Jennifer’s, now, presses against the apex of her thighs. 

“Sometimes.” 

It has Jennifer sighing in relief, and it’s kind of pathetic that she can’t even suppress it. Especially because Needy is smiling, now, regarding Jennifer’s dazed expression fondly. 

That’s when she gets so annoyed she angles her head just so and kisses Needy just to shut her up, warm lips supple and undemanding under her own.

And alright, she guesses they’re really fucking doing this. 

She‘s sucking on Needy’s tongue, her heart pulsing more dramatically in her ears by the second, when the thigh pressed between her legs is removed. Needy’s taken to shifting her body slightly, her slim, yet strong thighs bracketing Jennifer’s hips. She almost whines into the other girl’s mouth at the loss of contact, until she realizes Needy is trying for something they’ve never done before.

She’s actually just flat out _riding_ her, and—

Jennifer lets out a dry moan when Needy sets a pace.

She puts her hands where she wants them most: over her best friends hips, against unmarred, delicate skin. Watches, totally basks in it. 

“Oh my god,” Needy exhales, eyes falling shut with it, still grinding so perfectly into Jennifer.

It’s enough for Jennifer to flip their position, pressing Needy down into the mattress, her hand slowly sliding down along a taut stomach.

“How about a safe word, Lesnicki?” Jennifer pants against her, grinning with it. 

“Shut up.” 

When she slips two fingers into clinging, wet heat, the sound of Needy's breathless mewl is right next to her ear, and Jennifer actually _can’t._

“_God, Needy_,” she spurs, her own voice low and breathy in a way that she’s never actually heard, before. 

Needy nods pleadingly, lips slightly parted in awe, clutching the shoulder above her.

“_More_.”

Jennifer attaches her mouth to Needy’s once more, sets a pace as her fingers glide easily, drawing out the motion and savoring the feel of being this close to her. Her girl. 

Something inside her breaks at all of it, because Needy probably knew she’d been itching for this, stupid-sappy-bespectacled-number-one-fan Needy. Her Needy. She actually wants this with her. 

And it’s fucking beautiful. 

When Needy comes beneath her, she cradling Jennifer’s face against her own, just like that first bloody night, when the darkness hand-selected Jennifer Check, drowned her in a fresh hell.

It’s been keeping her close, these days, but Needy, her Needy, has always kept her so much closer.

And honestly, the hungry thing inside her never stood a fucking chance against them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> title: Good to You, Marianas Trench


End file.
